


When I Cannot Stand Alone

by cadkitten



Category: Dir en grey, Ghost in the Shell, the GazettE
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anal Sex, Angst, Hand Jobs, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-02-13
Updated: 2009-02-13
Packaged: 2017-11-29 10:44:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/686038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cadkitten/pseuds/cadkitten
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some would call this world ugly. Some would call it beautiful beyond the ability to imagine. I suppose it just depends on the angle you're coming from as to what you might see in. To me... the world is dying. Even as we sprint forward in certain respects, we fall behind in others.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When I Cannot Stand Alone

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt[s]: Monthly Challenge 1 for popversified: a dystopian universe. Due Feb 28th. 008: Beauty for 50stories.  
> Comments: It seems it is almost always my Die muse that wants to play in these playgrounds of the mind. It went over well enough last time that I let him free once more.  
> Beta Readers: kawaiikyo, ventorous01  
> Song[s]: " If You Only Knew " by OLIVIA

Some would call this world ugly. Some would call it beautiful beyond the ability to imagine. I suppose it just depends on the angle you're coming from as to what you might see in it. To me... the world is dying. Even as we sprint forward in certain respects, we fall behind in others.

Even as my mind flits over the lines and lines of code in my head, my enhanced abilities guiding me through the security of someplace I do not belong, I realize that even the beauty here nor the beauty I see in the mirror can make up for anything our society lacks. We have lost something in translation, failed to grasp that last piece of what it truly means to be alive, even while clinging to the vines of life itself. I have lost it further than anyone I know and yet... I am sure enough in myself to realize it.

Perhaps that alone gives me more humanity than it should. The lines blur, green into white, the backdrop of my universe black as I sit, my eyes closed and my mind hacking into the next database. It is my life and my job, to simply do this every waking minute. A part of me knows this is where we're lacking. What ever happened to human contact? To touching someone and going to speak with them to find out what is needed rather than infiltrate their systems and compromise their security to obtain a single scrap of information? Something more has been lost than should have been.

I find what I'm looking for, a single file and I pull it loose, storing it away and backing out the way I came, sealing things behind me. I'm not so unkind as to simply leave a gaping hole where I could keep someone of lesser skills than I out. I suppose that puts me in the grey. I am neither the white nor the black and I run with my own lines. Government sanctioned and paid to be their dog. Some would say that made me white. Except that if I am given enough reason, I will side with the outsiders, those who are not sanctioned and perhaps are regarded with ill-will. Both on the inside and out, all at the same time. I balance on a thin line between right and wrong, stepping only within that patch of grey I have built around me. This is my life, the one I was both built to live and have willingly given myself over to.

Section nine is near, I can feel them and soon enough, I know it's the Major, come with my payment and to retrieve the data I have obtained. Always so quick and efficient: a high praise to be sung on my part. My eyes slide open and I push away from the bar, abandoning my bottle on the counter, eyes meeting with the Major's for a single moment as she slides into my abandoned seat, fingers deftly taking the memory chip from beneath the warming green glass of my beer. Her voice echoes in my mind, letting me know payment is on the way.

I slip from the bar, coming out onto the street, avoiding the puddles and the strays, stepping over the garbage and setting my pace quick. I'd say it wasn't a good part of town, but then is there really a good part anymore? Riffraff on every corner, illicit things happening in every mind - hardly a utopia. Perhaps this is what a certain ring of scholars would consider to be a dystopia. I have been through more than enough in this time to know that they are more right than they ever wanted to be.

The red leather of my outfit whispers softly to me as I walk, the stilettos of my boots clicking against the sidewalk. I have a determination today that I normally never have. I've turned down two jobs tonight simply to exist on a more base level. Vaguely, I wonder what all he's turned down to meet me at our destination. The thought exists that it hardly matters.

Love is blind. But at least love is human. A sense of unease coats the air as I walk, telling me that perhaps this is the wrong decision. But I know it is simply a fear that I am driven by, something that eats me alive and is built to remind me that I still live. A husk of who I once was, but alive all the same. I pause, my head turning up to look at the buildings around me, sky-scrapers pushing the limits of believability, reaching for a God that no longer exists here. Or maybe they're reaching for the past, just as I am.

People move around me, swirling and dense, their movement seeming so fast in comparison to my own stillness. Each carries with them the thoughts and sounds of what we've all become and I realize I've been through hell and back to understand all that I do... to miss what it is that I miss. The darkness of the sky grows deeper and the glow of the lights around me brighter. At least... we still have a sky to see.

My eyes slip shut and the seconds tick past, my rhythm speeding up to the world around me, showing me that I exist the same as they do. When I open them again, he is by my side, his hand on my shoulder and his eyes focused on some point beyond my view. We do not speak. We do not need to. We never have.

The world continues to move and we move with it, allowing the flow to carry us away. Only once we've reached his apartment building do we exit the stream, creating our own lines as we cross into the tiny elevator that takes us to his floor. I can smell him, his very existence permeating my own, and I wonder if he feels the same. A smile curves my lips as I slip out behind him, watching as he lets the sheer material that had been covering him slip to the floor as if it were nothing.

The red leather I am wearing slides from my fingertips as I pull it from myself, leaving the boots on because I know he likes it like that. My eyes take him in, my mind thriving on what he gives me as he takes himself in hand, providing a show that I cannot miss. When we are here like this, it is purely sexual, radiating from us as if it is trying to consume the world at our side. It drives me, betters me... and keeps that last frail piece of me that is human awake and thriving. I know it to be the same for him, his eyes betraying the need with an intensity that I can only rival.

The instant our bodies meet, it is like the clash of something age old and purely beautiful. Even if we are aesthetically pure beauty, nothing could ever portray the pure splendor of the acts that we allow ourselves on these nights. Love fairly weeps from our bodies with the sweetness of our essences. My hands caress his skin as his mouth worships my body in a way that feels only like a dream. His pale hands brushing my most sensitive areas, pulling me higher as I cling to him. His body pushing into mine as the most breathless of moans leaves his lips, breaking our silence.

Our pace is steady, our hearts thrumming in cadence to our movement, our breaths heating the air as our temperatures rise. We move as if to the beat of another universe, mindless of the outside as we confine ourselves to simply this room, this existence. I pull him closer as we ride the waves of ecstasy higher, drawing on one another as the need overrides the rhythm. My cry shatters our bubble first, my slender body arching high, molding with his as he labors over me, his arms holding me tight. Even as I'm falling, he follows, his mind plunging with mine into the deepest of abysses.

Time seems to stand still as I lay in his arms, existing only with him, as one with both his mind and his body. It is there that I find my solace, my reprieve from the world outside the plate-glass windows. And even as his voice echoes in the air, telling me of his love, I understand once more what it means to be alive. I wonder... does he feel it, too?

**The End**  



End file.
